


Puppa's Dilemna

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Tomorrow will be perfect [4]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Character of Color, Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Fluff, Human!Simon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maia wants Simon to come with her to Alicante for the Nephilims’ council. Simon doesn’t want to go, until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppa's Dilemna

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem, so this one is a little bit overdue compared to the speed with which I posted the other three… plus, having just finished City of Lost Souls, I don’t even have an excuse for sticking with Simon/Maia other than this being an AU series -and also that I wanted to ;)

“It’s not even like you’ll be the only mundane there—Magnus told me the other day he was coming too.”

 

Simon frowns, causing Maia to roll her eyes to the ceiling.

Sure, she gets that learning about the supernatural world isn’t an easy thing to digest, and she doesn’t blame Simon for the month-long break he incited in their relationship –she can’t swear she wouldn’t have done the same thing in his place, even with the pups coming along- and she really  _is_  trying to be patient, but sometimes his permanent confusion is just frustrating.

 

“Magnus. You know, my friend who lives in India? You said he looked like an anime character!”

“Oh, the one whose boyfriend turned out to be a Shadowhunter?” Simon asks with a sudden spark of recognition, “With the pink hair?”

“I think it’s mostly blue now,” Maia tells him, “but yes, that’s the one. He said they’d be staying at an inn in the city.”

“While _we_ go camping,” Simon grunts, “When you’ve never needed so much attention!”

 

Maia groans when one -or three- of the babies decide kicking her belly from the inside is the best thing they can do to help with the conversation. Simon’s eyebrows raise as if to say “see?”, but Maia is having none of that tonight -or ever, really, but particularly not tonight.

 

“Simon,” she warns, “We are not having this conversation again -I might be the weight of a small whale but I’m not beached yet! Camping is healthy and fun and even if it weren’t what’s happening right now warrants the trip –yes, even if there’s a ninety percent chance the Nephilims are going to scorn both of us.”

“But the doctors keep saying you need rest,” Simon insists, “What if the agitation make _them_ " -he gives the swell of her belly a pointed look- "think it’s time to come out?”

 

His hand on her belly are warm, and Maia feels a shiver run through her, the tip of her breasts harden… apparently being pregnant is having a  _really positive_  effect on her libido because she and Simon haven’t had that much sex since they were eighteen and all but exploding with hormones.

She still sits back against the pillows and covers herself up to the stomach before she takes a steadying breath and shrugs:

 

“I told you, outdoor childbirth has been a tradition for a super long time for werewolves.”

“Alright but if it’s just about being outside you could do it here too.”

“I am not going to give birth to our children in Central Park,  _Simon_!”

 

She hears something clattering to the ground in their neighbor’s flat, most likely the stethoscope he uses to spy on the other residents, and she almost smirks before she remembers exactly what Simon just implied.

 

“Look, if this is about not wanting to see Clary I—”

“It’s not about that!” Simon protests, breathing too loud and skipping a heartbeat. “You told me the Council would be in session in the capital right. I’d have to be pretty unlucky to run into her there?”

“You do realize there are less Nephilim in the world than there are French people, right?” Maia asks, disbelief coloring her voice. “Luke looked it up -there’s sixty something million of French people just in France, but I doubt there’s even ten million Nephilims in the whole world.”

 

Simon’s face falls, and Maia realizes she probably shouldn’t have mentioned that tidbit if she wanted to convince him to come with her to the Council session –but not doing it would have felt unfair somehow, strangely like cheating. For a long while, he stares at her belly, still kneeling on their bedsheets until, at last, he crawls up to her on all four and settles down by her side, pressing his nose against an old gash on her ribs.

 

“Alrigh, fine, maybe it’s a little about not wanting to see Clary.”

“Well, it’s progress to admit it.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Simon protests -almost whines- and Maia rolls her eyes again.

“Simon I love you but you’re a jerk. No,” she insists when he glares at her from his position, “really.”

 

His hair is curly over his eyes again, and there’s that pout she loves to kiss off his face –but not just now. For now, there’s other things she needs to talk about. With a sigh, she reaches over to turn off her bedside lamp, plunging the only room of their apartment in complete darkness. Her eyes adjust quickly, of course, but Simon can’t really see her face anymore, which is the most important part if she’s going to be honest.

With a sigh, she sinks lower under the bed sheet and lies on her side, face turned toward Simon’s.

That’s how they slept the first time they shared a bed -cold and sad and exhausted after Jace had gone missing, their hands gripping one another while they whispered their secrets to the dark… but of course, one night is never enough to say everything, and there were other surprises later on.

 

“I get that it’s hard for you,” she says at last. “I also get that Clary is your best friend and she used to tell you everything and whatnot, but it’s been over a month. If you can forgive  _me_ , who lied just because I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t leave, then you should be able to forgive  _her_  who lied because she was trying to protect you.”

“She shouldn’t have!” Simon protests. “I’d have protected her!”

“My packmates call me a runt and I can take you one armed,” Maia points out.

 

Granted, the runt thing is a matter of teasing more than actual truth, and she can handle  _them_ , too, but it doesn’t really change the fact that Simon would probably have died out there, or something. Sure, he’s got brain -he could have been useful in the war, at some point. Mostly though, he’d have probably ended up traumatized at best, dead at worst. Maybe even undead, given his rotten luck.

 

“Well, I could have supported her,” Simon insists. “Once I got over her and Jace dating. It’s unfair she didn’t let me be there.”

“Just as it would have been unfair for her to watch you get hurt and have to think it was her fault,” Maia points out. “I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be bummed out or to ask her to do things differently next time -if there is one. I’m just saying, you two should talk, and Alicante sounds like the closest thing to a neutral place you're ever going to get. And beside, I’d like to remind you that Clary is also  _my_ friend, and I’ve had quite enough conversations about Paris getting cut short by questions about your well being, alright?”

 

There’s a long, long stretch of silence where Maia would think Simon fell asleep if not for the beating of his heart, until he groans.

 

“ _Fine,_ ” he sighs, breath tickling Maia’s neck, “I’ll come. But you’re not allowed to have the pups while we’re there.”

 

Maia can’t help her laughter when Simon realizes he’s just used a nickname he’s been fighting for over eight months.


End file.
